


Dizzying Rewards

by Etienne Telling (tellingetienne)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Age Difference, BDSM, Breathplay, Dom/sub, M/M, No Sex, Not Beta Read, Orgasm Denial, Prompt Fic, Trans Male Character, Under-negotiated Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-03-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22978144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tellingetienne/pseuds/Etienne%20Telling
Summary: A young submissive experiences a new milestone at a play party with his older dominant partner. CW/TW for some under negotiated stuff with the trans character's binder (but no overt dysphoria or distress).
Relationships: Original Male Character/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Dizzying Rewards

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt ficlet: breath play using clothes. Written in one burst as a writing exercise to flesh out new characters.

Time was Samuel counted his weeks in time left in the semester. Months left before graduation. Before freedom. Now, Samuel counts his days by Sunday nights, by the third Saturday of every month. Time extends out from the first moment Jonathan put him on his knees and taught him the stings and thuds of a leather flogger against his back in an empty bedroom at Hiroki's play party. Milestones are no longer birthdays, but experiences of pain and submission: the first time Jonathan left a bruise; the moment he first made Samuel kneel at a party, in front of all to see; the first time Samuel stripped bare and felt the kiss of leather against his ass. Bigger than his 16th birthday, his upcoming 21st, or even both of them together, was the moment Jonathan wrapped a thin leather training collar around his throat. 

Tonight Jonathan guides Samuel into another milestone, once again in Hiroki's house. This party was smaller than most, fancy dress, high protocol. Friends who were casual players in the scene absent, tonight was a deep exploration of D/s, rules not yet explored beyond conversation. Samuel watches, absorbs the movement of other submissives, the total exchange of power between partners. He does not expect to play, only to learn. 

So it's a surprise when Jonathan leads him away from the scene between Louis and Kevin. The echo of the flogging ringing in Samuel's ears as Jonathan leads him into a quiet corner, sound fading away as he points to a spot on the floor, silently bidding Samuel to kneel. Samuel's world narrows to Jonathan and only Johnathan. 

It's hard, knowing people are watching, or if not watching now, knowing that they're going to be seen. But Samuel sinks down to the floor, obedient. Folds his hands behind his back as Jonathan taught him, chin high, eyes lowered. 

"You've been a very good boy tonight, Samuel." Samuel doesn't look up, it's so damn hard, but he doesn't look up. Long fingers reach out and skim along his jaw and he doesn't look up from the foot of the padded bench Jonathan's sitting on. "I'm going to reward you." 

His heart skips several beats, eyes darting up, back down where they belong, but he catches the hint of Jonathan's amusement in the tilt of his lips. "Here, Sir?" His voice cracks, of course it fucking cracks here and now. 

Jonathan's fingers rest under his chin and tilts his head back. "Look at me." Such a gentle order, but then Jonathan never delivers commands forcefully. Samuel raises his eyes, meeting Jonathan's deep brown gaze. "Color, Samuel." It's not a question, it's not even an answer to Samuel's question and Samuel realizes he's not going to get one. 

Playing in a public space is his biggest soft limit, with wildly unclear boundaries, but a soft limit nonetheless. Playing with his binder on was one of Jonathan's. His eyes dart away from Jonathan's now, even though he was just fighting not to look at him. His body feels hot, he tenses. No color is the wrong one right now, not to Jonathan, but what's the right one for  _ him? _

Jonathan's fingers squeeze his chin, a little jerk to remind him to come back, to look him in the eyes. Wild eyed, scared, Samuel meets that gaze once more, licks his lips. "Green?" Fucking upspeak skews his voice and he feels his cheeks flush. 

"Green," Jonathan repeats. Samuel isn't sure if he's confirming or speaking for himself. Doesn't ask to clarify because his fingers leave his chin to his tie, loosening it. Deftly popping the first few buttons of his shirt. "Finish what I started." 

Samuel's fingers shake as he finishes opening his shirt. Underneath is the new half binder Jonathan bought him, a zip front, making it easier for nights they do scenes. When Jonathan doesn't reach for the zipper, or bid him to reach for it himself, Samuel relaxes. Just a fraction, shoulders releasing their tension as he folds his arms behind his back once more. 

"Do you remember asking me to choke you?" The question lands like a slap across his face and Samuel flinches back, gasps. Jonathan smiles, all sharp edges and predatory intent. 

Samuel was always reaching, always gasping for more. "I want to be controlled and hurt," he'd told Jonathan the first night they met, and he'd meant it. Although, that didn't mean he was always prepared to deal with it. 

When he didn't answer, Jonathan went on. "You were begging last Sunday, when I pinned you to the wall, hand on your throat. I'm not even sure you were aware, you were so deep by that point." Jonathan reaches out and grips his tie, pushing the knot up right against the hollow of his throat. 

Samuel  _ can _ breathe, but he forgets how as it closes in, between the pressure of it, then tension of the binder around his chest. His eyes go wide in terror and he starts to shake, gasping in a breath the he realizes yes, he can still take one. 

"S-sir. I." He stammers over his words because he doesn't actually know what he's trying to say anyway. Jonathan just raises an eyebrow, letting the terror wash over Samuel. It settles between Samuel's thighs, throbbing, hot, wanting. He closes his eyes because he doesn't want to see what he's making Jonathan feel in return. Doesn't want to know what he's about to do to him. 

Jonathan's hand leaves his tie and hooks into the O ring at the top of the binder's zipper and Samuel swears. "Fuck _ , shit. _ ." 

"Language," Jonathan says, tone mild as he draws the zipper down. As the binder comes undone, so does Samuel. The shaking turns into a violent shudder, his nails bite into his palms. 

Jonathan doesn't ask for a color again, but Samuel's asking himself. Color, what color? Samuel doesn't know, somewhere into a spring-green. Not red, shockingly not red, and not yet yellow. He's so scared he can't stop the trembles that keep shaking his body. He's so turned on he can't think straight. 

They're in public, are people watching? Samuel doesn't dare look around, doesn't want to know who is seeing him come untethered. Jonathan's hand rests over his sternum, dark skin against fair. Samuel presses up into the touch, trying to let it ground him. 

"Green," he says, unbidden. The fear peaks and Samuel allows it to take over, allowing Jonathan to truly take over. The tie tightens around his throat again, Jonathan pushing the knot up tightly against skin, free hand resting at the back of his neck. Samuel sucks in a quick breath before a combination of the tie and the pressure of Jonathan's hands restrict his breathing to the point of being impossible. 

He'd scream, if he could. It's only sheer animal panic that holds him in place under Jonathan's hands. His thighs press together in spite of that terror and he rocks. Once, twice, he's desperate for some kind of friction. "Stop." Jonathan's voice cuts through everything and suddenly he can breathe again. He sucks in a gasping breath and his eyes snap open to look up at his partner. 

He whines, but the tie closes tight, hand against the back of his neck gripping. His hips still, but it's a close thing. Jonathan makes him dizzy. Cutting off his breath longer each time, until tears are running down his cheek. The tie feels rough around his skin, his throat feels raw and dry. Jonathan doesn't stop until he chokes, crying too hard to keep this up. 

"Easy, easy," Jonathan says as he reaches down and pulls Samuel up onto the bench, guiding his smaller form into his lap. He's vaguely aware of Jonathan rebuttoning his shirt, fingers wiping his eyes. 

"Oh God." Someone hands Jonathan a tissue. Someone was  _ watching _ them. That knowledge spikes right to his arousal and he presses his face to Jonathan's chest. What a torturous reward for behaving. What a beautiful agony. 

Jonathan wipes his face, lets him blow his nose, cradles him back up to his chest, kisses his temple. "I know, I know, that was so much. You did so well, Samuel." 

Samuel clings to the praise, clings to Jonathan. He needs more, doesn't want it here, wouldn't accept it here. He feels like he's going to vibrate out of his skin in arousal, knows that Jonathan isn't going to touch him, there's no release waiting for him tonight. Sunday, if he's lucky. If Jonathan permits. 


End file.
